Skrulls and Crossbones: X-MenMarvelTwilight
by SilverWolf742
Summary: Sequel to the Concord of the Supernaturals. After repeated unsuccessful invasions, the Skrulls have returned to Earth, but this time they have a new weapon: reverse engineered vampire venom with the ability to remove mutant powers. Without their mutant abilities to assist them, Brooke and her mutant and vampire allies face an entirely different challenge.
1. Business as Usual

**_Note: This story can theoretically be read without reading the one that came before it, but you'll understand it much more completely having read the first. If you don't really want to do so, you'll need to know that Brooke, Jesse, and Luke are my own original characters in case you're confused._**

**_Any feedback on this story, or its predecessor, is much appreciated. Enjoy :)._**

* * *

_Go ahead, try it. I dare you. _

I stared down the barrel of the 10-foot-tall Sentinel robot's machine gun, waiting for it to make its move. I knew it would take its shot; it couldn't resist a sitting target. The remotely human like head swiveled and the glowing pupils contracted, acquiring me as its new target. A slow, self-satisfied smile spread across my face. _Come on, buddy, I'm ready for you. _The robot's arm shifted, and the impressive gun attached to it clicked into place. I dove to the side, rolling as it unleashed the torrent of bullets. I moved quickly, so that its back was to me, and leaped. The fire of the change coursed through my limbs. Bones rearranged, fur sprouted, muscle grew in slabs underneath my skin. I landed on the back of the robot in the shape of horse sized wolf as black as night. It was a form I had become particularly fond of since I first used to it to take out a group of power hungry vampire elites and one mutant-turned-vampire with an inferiority complex three years ago. _Has it really been that long?_ _And to think, I wouldn't have even dreamed of taking a wolf's shape before then. _The secret I told few people—that I had killed my own mother, a wolf shapeshifter, at the age of thirteen when I took wolf form during my first change, made me fear and revile wolves for the next seven years. I disemboweled her and watched her die in a pool of her own blood, a slave to the wolf's bloodlust. I can't say I'm over it. I'll never be over it, not if I live two hundred years, which may very well be possible if I'm anything like my father, the one and only Wolverine. He had to be pushing one hundred and thirty by now, and he didn't look a day over thirty five. Ok maybe forty five; all the scowling he did wasn't doing his face any favors.

No one gets over killing their own mother. My experiences in Forks three years ago helped me to forgive myself, at least partially. I didn't have the control over my animal forms that I do now, not by a long shot. It wasn't a justification for what I did, but it made me feel just a smidgeon better about it. The nightmares still came, but only once a month or so now, sometimes less. And thanks to a group of Quileute werewolves I met in Forks (they weren't quite _werewolves_…more like shapeshifters that turned into giant wolves when it suited them), specifically Lucas, who turned into a snow white wolf that was just as pretty as it was dangerous, I don't fear wolves anymore. The giant wolf shape that I picked up from observing the Quileute wolves was certainly handy, that was for sure. And I was about to kick this robot's metal ass with it.

The weight of my body threw the robot off balance. It teetered, struggling to regain its footing.I bit into the robot's neck like I would a wild deer, not because the tin can had any arteries to speak of, but because a robot without a head usually didn't function ideally. But that was just a hunch. My teeth, several times stronger than your standard wolf, sunk into the steel outer covering. I wrenched my head back and tore at the cables that held the head it place. Sparks flew, and the robot collapsed. The two red lights that served as its eyes dimmed. I jumped off my prey and howled, my adrenaline surging. _Too easy._

"Look out!"

The warning came too late. The laser hit me squarely in the left shoulder, singing skin and muscle. _Shit. _The smell of burning hair filled my nostrils. The wound itched and pulled itself together, regenerating. I whirled toward my attacker, snarling. Another Sentinel charged me, aiming for another shot. Pain lanced through me as a laser from a third Sentinel found its target along my rib cage. _Fine, let's try this. _I regained my human form and changed again. Overgrown eagle's wings sprouted from my shoulders, and I felt a slight emptiness as my bones became hollow. I took flight, away from the shredded asphalt that, believe or not, was a usable road not ten minutes ago. So I wasn't nearly as graceful or skilled as Angel, nor were my wings quite as pretty. Flight came easier as a full-fledged eagle, when I had the raptors instincts to guide me. Still, this eagle half-form was a pretty good imitation, and he claimed I wouldn't be able to get it right without sprouting a beak. _Ha! Take that, Angel._

I heard another laser discharge and swerved in midair. A second shot clipped the edge of my left wing, and I flinched. Fine, maybe I'd have to give Angel some more credit. It was _hard _keeping these things intact.

"Hey, hon, isn't this my territory?" Above me, the Human Torch levitated, the flames clinging to his shape like a skintight suit. Well, not quite the Human Torch, but pretty close. Johnny Storm wasn't wasn't quite as irritating as his 25-year-old son, Jesse, my tormentor. And boyfriend of three years, unbelievably. It's a long story…not going to get into it.

"Thought I needed a change of scenery, see what it was like to be you," I said. He laughed.

"Please, your clumsy excuse for flight doesn't even compare." He did a quick hairpin loop just for good measure. "Try that with those sails of yours."

"Cute. You can take those aerial acrobatics to the circus with you; it's not gonna take out these bots any quicker. Can you even _hit_ a target from this altitude, or are you just enjoying the view?"

He gave me a wicked smile, his teeth glowing as if lit by an internal fire. "Sounds like a challenge.

"It might be," I quipped.

"Sentinel to the right. If I nail it, you make dinner tonight," he declared. I narrowed my blue-green eyes at him.

"You miss, and you make _me _dinner. I want the works. Don't forget the candles."

He smirked. "Deal. Watch and learn, Brooke." A ball of fire the size of a bowling ball materialized in his hand. He eyed a Sentinel as it aimed the laser gun at him, and threw the ball like a major league pitcher. It hit the bot straight in the face, melting the head into oblivion. The sentinel switched back to its gun, fired off a few rounds while spinning in a drunken circle, and collapsed. _Damn_. I was impressed, but I wasn't about to let _him _know that. His ego was inflated enough as it is. I was about to come up with a snarky comment, until Shadowcat yelled from below.

"Hey, lovebirds, a little help?" Three sentinels were hemming her in. Jesse smirked. I rolled my eyes and went into a nose dive before he had a chance to gloat.

The ruined pavement came up to meet me. I resorbed my wings and shifted into a tiger half form as I hit the ground next to Kitty, claws raised and tail lashing.

"About time. Nice stripes," she said, smiling to show twin fangs, keen and sharp. Even three years later, I was still struggling to get used to seeing Kitty as a vampire. She had been bitten back in Forks and survived the change, though after the battle at the Volturi stronghold she had stayed with our vampire allies, the Cullens, to learn to control her thirst for blood. That couldn't keep her away for long though. A year later she came back, apparently in full control. Some of the X-men still looked at her as if she were going to suck the life force from them in their sleep. I couldn't say I blamed them; my attitude toward vampires used to be no better. Luckily, they never had to see her when her eyes were a hellfire red. As she became accustomed to a diet of animal blood, they had thankfully faded to a deep gold.

Kitty winked and disappeared into thin air, only to rematerialize on top of one of the sentinels. Oh yeah, there was that too. Her change into a vampire had not only enhanced her strength and speed to superhuman levels, but her mutant abilities received a nice upgrade, too. Kitty not only walked through walls now; she also teleported. Needless to say, she was more valuable than ever as a teammate. She tore into the steel covering of the sentinel's back and tore out its circuitry with her bare hands. With a feline growl I went to work on a second sentinel. In my peripheral vision, I saw Colossus and Iceman take out a pair of robots. The last went down in a blaze of glory, Jesse's handiwork for sure.

And then the street, sky, and robots all simultaneously faded into nothingness, replaced by an expansive room with cold steel walls and floor.

"Simulation complete," a female robotic voice stated, echoing in the large chamber.

I relaxed and felt the tiger's fur sink back into my skin and my teeth lose their pointed edges. Perspiration beaded on my forehead and dripped down my back underneath my leather X-suit. I felt alive and energized. Nothing like a good Danger Room session.

As we filed out of the room Jesse grounded himself beside me, the fire dissipating from his body. Unlike me, and everyone else around me, his appearance was not marred by something as banal as sweat. Jesse didn't sweat. Sweating was a cooling mechanism, and seeing as Jesse's body could reach upwards of several thousand degrees, he didn't overheat. Not to mention that perspiration would be about as effective at toning down his body temperature as tossing an ice cube into a nuclear reactor. Jesse's caramel colored eyes, always glinting with a hint of mischief, flicked up and down my body. His scent, a unique blend musk and smoke, pervaded my sensitive nose as he came in close and whispered.

"I think you owe me dinner. Steak would be nice. Don't forget dessert." God, I hated him. But I recognized the lie as soon as I thought it. Who was I kidding? My eyes greedily absorbed every detail of his face and the well-defined muscles of his body. I loved the bastard, cockiness and all.


	2. The Cure

**_Note: Any feedback appreciated!_**

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The planet truly was unremarkable, she noted from her position aboard the vessel. The main deck was entirely surrounded by glass, giving a panoramic view of the glinting stars and the blue and green orb before her. A mere 7,918 miles in diameter, a pebble among boulders, orbiting a small yellow star among billions just like it. Yet in all her travels, she had never come across a planet with so much potential. Earth was a conundrum. What was it about this otherwise insignificant rock that gave a subset of its population such remarkable gifts? Was it the composition of the atmosphere or the soil? She shook her head. Couldn't be…there were many planets with a similar blend of elements. No, it seemed that evolution had produced by sheer chance a species with nearly unlimited genetic potential. She felt her brow furrow. Her species had not changed for many thousands of years, and yet these creatures had produced a startling array of abilities in their short existence. And moreover, they had thwarted Skrull invasions time and again with their unusual talents. The failed invasion of earth, the latest of their defeats, weighed on her. First the destruction of Throneworld by Galactus, then the endless battles with the Kree, and now the humans. She frowned. The Skrull species had suffered mightily. At this rate, they would soon be all but extinct.

"My Queen Jakara, such an expression is unbecoming of one so fair."

"Dear Kildor, how could I not fret for the fate of my race?" She inclined her head slightly to acknowledge her second in command, but her eyes never left the planet. She could feel his presence at her right shoulder. Kildor was handsome and capable, she had acknowledged many a time. Had her people not been in so precarious a position, she might have considered marrying him. She knew he would leap at the opportunity. But there was no time for such trifles. At the moment, Kildor was far more valuable as her chief advisor and military strategist. His unwavering loyalty to her was one of the few things she could depend on in these uncertain times.

Kildor silently admired her profile: the supple smoothness of her olive green skin, the long tapered ears, the thin bridge of her nose, and large angled eyes that were a brilliant shade of pale green. A delicate, modest crown of gold nestled itself in her straight ebony hair that shone like polished leather and fell to her narrow waist. She was beautiful, determined, and ruthless when necessary. Jakara was a true leader and undoubtedly the finest of the Skrull race, and he would give his life to serve her.

"Do not trouble yourself, my queen. Earth is the solution to our woes. With their gifts, we will strengthen our race and claim the miserable rock as our own. It is unfit to serve as the new Throneworld, but past insurrections must be punished. After we drain the inhabitants of their useful abilities, we will have enough power to conquer any planets we see fit to be part of our new empire. The Skrulls will rise to their former glory. We will survive," Kildor pronounced. A thin smile played on the Jakara's lips.

"Ever the optimist. It's a wonder you haven't already started celebrating our victory. But if I may intone, was this not the plan of our predecessors? Infiltrate the government, the Avengers, S.H.I.E.L.D, and other key organizations, and claim the planet from the inside while attempting to mimic the abilities of the gifted in our own? Even humans are not foolish enough to fall victim to the same ploy twice, and only a fool would reattempt a clearly unsuccessful strategy. Do you take me for a fool, Kildor?" An edge crept into her normally level tone at the question, and she could sense Kildor stiffen at her abrasiveness. The fate of her people was not something she took lightly.

"I would never imply anything of the sort. You misunderstand me. We will not be pursuing the same course of action. Covert infiltration is no longer an option. We have been exposed, and they will be on alert for shapeshifting Skrull imposters. No, this attack will be more direct." The queen looked at him sharply, her piercing eyes blazing.

"Direct? Do you realize how few our numbers are? I have always trusted your judgment in matters of combat, as I cannot profess to have your experience, but a direct attack would be suicide." Kildor grinned at her sheepishly and took a step backwards, trying to avoid drawing anymore of her ire.

"Please, my lady, if you would allow me to finish," he pleaded. The queen looked as if she were going to say more, but instead held her tongue and gave him a brisk nod.

"I have thought about the failed invasion of Earth time and again. Our infiltration was near flawless, but even after our discovery we should have been able to take the planet by force, for the average human is exceedingly weak. As I'm sure you have gathered, the reason behind our failure was the gifted ones, who managed to overwhelm even our genetically enhanced Skrull soldiers. A successful invasion of Earth would necessitate their neutralization. Up until recently, we had no means to do so."

The Queen raised her eyebrows and met Kildor's eyes with rapt attention. "What are you alluding to?" The tall Skrull offered her his arm, and she entwined her slender arm with his.

"Come with me, my Queen. Rodom and his team have been busy; I believe the latest development will please you."

They entered the harsh white light of the ship's research facility not long after. Jakara narrowed her eyes against the harsh reflection off the polished steel walls and various machinery of the large circular room. Five Skrulls surrounded a metal table at the center of the room, wearing the white pants and knee length black labcoats that were the standard attire of researchers. A fairly thin Skrull looked up from the table.

"Ah, Queen Jakara, we've been expecting you. Please, come forward."

"Kildor refused to divulge any particulars on the way down here, insisting that you wanted to do the honors. If you would, Rodom, my interest has been peaked. You say you have found a way to "neutralize" the superhumans?"

Rodom smiled. "Are you aware of the strain of superhuman colloquially referred to as vampires?" At that moment a feral hiss alerted Jakara to the creature restrained on the table. The Skrull researchers parted so that Jakara could get a closer look. The male human, who appeared to be approximately thirty human years, strained against the metal cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles to the table. But it was apparent that this was no ordinary human. The skin of the creature had a pale cream coloration, but even more unusual was that the skin sparkled under the artificial light like the facets of a finely cut diamond. As she approached, the human hissed once more, baring two elongated fangs that replaced the normally diminutive human canines. The human's molten gold irises were striking. Jakara turned up her nose in disgust. Such an undignified creature.

"No I am not, but I assume this one is representative of its kind. May I ask why you risked exposure for its capture, and what this has to do with your work?" Rodom flinched slightly at the reprimand, but continued.

"We were discreet, I assure you. Vampires are parasites. Their kind feed off the blood of humans." Jakara turned up her lip in disgust, but allowed Rodom to continue. "Vampires are not a new breed. Quite the contrary. They have a small but still significant population, but until recently they lived covertly. As you know, we have been observing Earth since the first invasion. Three years ago, there was a war between vampires and humans. The vampires were attempting a forcible takeover of the Earth by creating an overwhelming number of their kind. They failed, but that's not the important point."

"What do you want from me?" The vampire ground out between clenched teeth, pulling against the restraints. They strained, and the Queen gave him a sharp look. _So strong. _

"Silence this creature before it escapes. I do not want a human parasite wreaking havoc on my ship, especially one that was brought here without my knowledge," she said, giving Rodom a pointed look. The form of Rodom's hand and forearm seemed to melt like a wax candle, reshaping itself. Within seconds it had been replaced by a large metal club, which he slammed against the vampire's temple. Its eyes rolled back into its head and it ceased to move. _A blow like that should have shattered a human skull. _

"It's not dead my Queen, but you won't see it breathe, as apparently vampires can live without oxygen. The vampires are exceedingly durable creatures. Sedation is ineffective, as the skin has the consistency of granite and a needle will not penetrate it. So we've had to resort to brute force."

"But as I was telling you prior to the interruption, the intriguing part about the war was how the vampires increased their numbers. Their saliva contains a potent venom that can transform the human into a vampire, assuming the host is left alive. They may or may not survive the transformation, but assuming success the human will gain the increased strength, speed, durability, and senses of the creature you see before you. What is even more intriguing is that when a gifted one is bitten by a vampire, they gain these strengths in addition to an enhancement of previously existing abilities."

"If you are suggesting that we become these creatures, you truly have lost your mind. Dependency on blood would be highly impractical for an isolated race that is already few in number. We have no means to regularly access—"

"That is _not_ what I am suggesting," Rodom interrupted, at the cost of an icy glare from Jakara at being interrupted. "Please, forgive me for my brazenness, but allow me to explain."

"I have been listening, Rodom, and my patience is wearing thin. Get to the point."

"We've been in possession of this vampire for several months. During its captivity, we isolated venom samples for further study. During our examination, we were surprised to discover that the venom is not venom at all, but rather a virus. A very potent, pervasive, durable virus that affects every organ system of the body. This was an incredibly exciting discovery, because unlike a toxin, a virus has genetic material. Meaning it can mutate. It can _evolve_. So my team and I were possessed by an idea. If the virus normally enhances the genetic potential of humans and gifted ones, then why couldn't it be genetically engineered to do the _reverse_?"

Kildor looked at Jakara's face to gauge her reaction. She was trying to remain impassive, but he knew her too well; her eyes betrayed her. They were alight with curiosity, eagerness, and even excitement. He had not seen Jakara excited since the beginning of the Skrull invasion, when their success seemed all but ensured. He smiled to himself. Rodom had better have a workable product to show her, or there would be hell to pay. Likely not execution, since minds like Rodom's were too hard to come by and the Skrulls were already few, but there were some fates worse than death.

"You mean to engineer the virus to remove superhuman abilities?" She breathed. "Can it be done?" The possibilities raced through Jakara's mind. Without the gifted ones, humans were no match for the Skrulls. They were superior in strength, in skill, and possessed more advanced weaponry. Yes, they were outnumbered, but the humans would be like so many ants under the sole of her boot. They were weak, even in great numbers. Rodom's grin seemed to stretch from ear to ear. He stood straighter, exuding confidence.

"On the contrary, we believe we have accomplished it. However, it has not yet been tested, considering our only potential test subject, who lies here before you, was also the source of fresh virus from which to create our modified version. But now that we have a stable strain, the subject is no longer needed. We wanted to do you the honor of observing our first test of the engineered virus on a live subject." He cast a glance at the prone, unbreathing form on the cold steel table. "Or rather, undead subject. Vampires seem to teeter on a strange boundary between living and deceased."

Jakara's anticipation grew, and she nodded in ascension. Rodom and his team went into motion simultaneously. One assistant morphed his hand into a blade and cut open the captive's shirt in a single fluid motion, revealing the glittering pale skin of the vampire's abdomen. A second Skrull attached several chest leads, and the portable heart rate monitor they were attached to sprang to life, the high pitched whine of the flat line filling the room. Rodom pulled over a ventilator and pried open the vampire's mouth, the twin fangs glinting briefly under the harsh light. Jakara watched with mild disgust as Rodom fed the tube down the creature's esophagus.

"You see, my Queen, the virus was initially transmitted via bloodstream, so it could only infect another through a direct bite. But we have successfully aerosolized our strain so that it may be spread via respiratory droplets. The advantage to this is that the virus can spread quickly and effectively from person to person." He indicated the ventilator. "As our subject is not breathing, we'll have to force inhalation of the virus with the ventilator." Jakara's brow furrowed.

"And how does the virus affect the non gifted humans?" Neutralization of the gifted abilities was a wonderful prospect, but she hardly wanted the rest of the human population to fall deathly ill. No doubt this would draw the attention of the gifted ones before they could succumb to the pathogen themselves. Plus, while the Skrulls reestablished themselves, the humans would be invaluable as slaves.

Rodom grinned. "Theoretically, it will have no obvious manifestations in the non gifted. But the virus is still capable of infection in these individuals, which allows them to serve as silent carriers. In essence, the sheer numbers of the normal humans will allow the virus to spread quickly, likely allowing us to affect even those gifted ones we have no previous knowledge of." Jakara's eyebrows rose nearly imperceptibly. A silent virus. Covert and effective. She liked the idea immensely.

"I'm impressed at your meticulousness in the fabrication of the virus. Let us hope that it functions as well as your theories suggest." Rodom winced at the veiled threat, and saying no more he went to a panel adjacent to the table, inputing several codes.

"Stand by," he said to his associates. "Beginning virus administration." He pressed a small green button on the panel, and the ventilator hissed as the aerosolized virus filled the tubes, pumping the gas into the immobile vampire. Its chest began to rise and fall at the prompting of the machine.

"Our theory suggests that the virus would typically require several days to have its full effect, but at the concentration we are applying, we are hoping to see a much more prompt response."

Kildor let out an involuntary snort. _He had better hope for a prompt response. _

All eyes were now trained on the captive. Jakara stared at the creature, her eyes flicking from its face to its abdomen, to its limbs and back again. She didn't know what to expect. Would its fangs drop from its mouth? Would the glittering skin peel from its body? Judging from intrigued impressions of her researchers, they had no idea what to expect either.

Thirty seconds passed. One minute. Kildor watched the perspiration begin to bead on Rodom's forehead. He was likely counting down the seconds he had left to live. His eyes flickered nervously to the panels showing the vampire's vital signs. Jakara was beginning to look displeased.

"My Queen, I sincerely apologize." The words came out in a rush. To Kildor it sounded like a desperate plea. "It appears we need to run more test—"

_Beep. _The sound from the heart monitor stopped the words in Rodom's throat. A single wave fluttered up from the flat line and died. Or had it? Was he imagining it?

_Beep. _Another wave, unmistakable this time.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _Three perfectly formed depolarizations. Rodom had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. A few more beats followed, beginning to pick up a regular, consistent rhythm. It was working. My god, it was working.


	3. Assignment

_Brooke Howlett bent over Jesse Storm's motionless body, which lay spread eagled across the black pavement. His otherwise handsome face was marred by various cuts, and a large bruise was blooming along the right side of his jaw. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Brooke shook him by the shoulders, yelling futilely for him to wake. But Jesse did not rise. Tears welled up Brooke's blue-green eyes, her face contorting into a mask of pain and grief. _

_ A looming humanoid shadow caught her attention, and she looked to its source. Her expression changed, taking on a gleam of defiance. But she remained crouched protectively over Jesse's body. The shadow _moved_, and a sword descended in a perfect trajectory to meet Brooke's slender neck. _

"No!" Alice Cullen woke up in a cold sweat. Well, if she could sweat. Or even if she could sleep. The vision hit her with the force of a moving train, leaving her head pounding. She breathed deeply, trying to make sense of it. She didn't require oxygen, but old habits die hard, and the inflation of her lungs with cool air was strangely calming. Jasper stirred beside her in the bed they shared. Ever since Bella joined their family, the Cullens had grown quite fond of beds. They had forgotten just how comfortable they were, not to mention their use for more intimate activities.

Jasper reached over, brushing back a dark lock of hair from her face. "You alright, darling? What did you see?" His smooth southern drawl never failed to soothe her, but she was feeling particularly frazzled. She didn't meet his eyes.

"Something's coming, Jasper," she said in a hushed whisper. "I can't see what specifically, but it affects all of us. Brooke and Jesse were there. But there were more Jasper. There were so many more. I don't have a strong enough connection to see their faces, but I _felt _them. People are going to die."

Jasper gently cupped Alice's chin, turning her face to him. Had she been capable of producing tears, her porcelain cheeks would have been stained by them. Her forehead was creased with worry, and her wide, topaz eyes stared through him. "When?"

She shook her head slowly. "My visions aren't that specific. But soon."

Now Jasper's expression mirrored Alice's. "Can we do anything to stop it?"

"I don't know."

* * *

**Brooke**

"We should have codenames," Jesse mused. He leaned further back into one of the ancient but inexplicably comfortable sofas that lay about one of the rec rooms in the X-mansion. From the other end of the couch, I eye him skeptically.

"Codenames?"

"You know. Like Storm, Cyclops, whatever. Codenames," he explained.

I rolled my eyes and gave him a playful shove. "I know what codenames are, but why should we have them?"

"Oh, come on, Brooke. Isn't it obvious? We played critical roles in the Vampire War. We have a standing that's on par with a lot of the more seasoned X-men."

Bobby Drake, aka Iceman, snorted from across the room. He leaned across the pool table at the center of the room and with a practiced motion sent the cue ball whizzing into its neighbors.

"Something to say, Bobby?" Jesse challenged.

"Not a word," he responded, glacier blue eyes remaining trained on the table as Angel bent to take his shot, slightly flaring his wings as he did so. It was a telltale sign of his growing agitation. Not that I needed that to tell me; I could smell the frustration on him from the light perspiration that seeped from his pores. Bobby just about had him beat, and he was none too pleased about it. But Warren wasn't the one to show it outwardly, and his narrow, delicate featured face had all the expression of a stone wall. But the wings never failed to give him away. I suppose that's why he usually declined participating in the weekly poker sessions that took place in the mansion.

Jesse observed the blonde pair for a few moments longer, but Bobby didn't rise to the bait. I silently reveled in it. There were few people that could irritate Jesse as much as he irritated everyone else. But Bobby maintained a calm, collected demeanor that Jesse couldn't seem to crack despite his best efforts. I knew it drove him crazy, but at the same time Bobby represented the ultimate challenge. Naturally, that made them inseparable. I credited his high tolerance for Jesse to his greater maturity; the thirty five year old had ten years on Jesse. But despite the age difference and their playful jabs at one another they got along famously. One ice and the other fire; I suppose "opposites attract" held true for friends as well as significant others.

Jesse's favorite victim used to be yours truly, until I realized that the relentless teasing was born out of a boyish crush that he didn't know how to express in any other way. And unlike Bobby, I was not so level headed. I have a temper that I inherited from the man who is the unchallenged king of short tempers, but unlike Logan, my snarls came from the vocal chords of wild beasts and at a moment's notice I could sprout the teeth to back them up. I suppose that made the teasing all the more rewarding for Jesse. He did always enjoy playing with fire.

I smiled inwardly at the memories of our formerly tense relationship. _Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, you never could refuse a challenge_. And what a challenge I was. I had more emotional baggage than any twenty year old should have had at the time, but somehow Jesse saw something worth saving. I could use the cliché and say he made me "whole," but that doesn't quite fit the bill. I was already whole, but it was Jesse that helped me discover my own self-worth. I was endlessly grateful to him for that, but of course I'd never let him know it. I wasn't the type that typically divulged her innermost feelings. Besides, God knows Jesse's ego didn't need any more boosting.

"I'd be willing to bet that we'll be sent out on more big name assignments," Jesse continued without missing a beat. "Meaning, of course, that our faces will be more known. I mean, the world has already seen your face on national television." Jesse chuckled when he saw my grimace.

I wished some other mutant representative had been at the highly televised signing of the Trifold Treatise, but Storm insisted that it should be me. Jesse, who thrived in the spotlight, would have been far more suited to the task. But given that he was presumed dead, I was the next logical choice. An ache of pain crept into my chest at the thought. I glanced at his face briefly and still couldn't believe he sat there in one piece. In the face of a massive army of newborn vampires, Jesse had unleashed a fiery blast equivalent to that of a nuclear warhead that had not only incinerated almost every vampire within a one mile radius but also effectively degraded him into little more than fiery molecules. Somehow, his consciousness survived amongst all those fragments, and he was able to painstakingly bring himself back together through sheer force of will. To my dismay, he chose my camp fire as the ideal location in which to regenerate himself and predictably scared the living daylights out of me. He ran a few degrees hotter since the incident, but other than that he seemed no worse for wear.

"We have to retain some kind of anonymity out in public," Jesse continued. "Plus, they're cool."

I thought about that. The signing of the Trifold Treatise that ended the vampire war had been broadcast worldwide; I was in pictures that plastered the front page of every major newspaper. There had been some inquiries as to who I was. After all, I had never been involved in a major mission. My face wasn't familiar to the public, and I had not so subtly averted any questions about my identity. Predictably, this didn't sit well with the editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle, J. Jonah Jameson, who had run a headline that read "Looks Can Be Deceiving: Silent Brunette Beauty a Volturi Spy in Disguise?" I rolled my eyes. It had only been one headline, since his attentions quickly came back to his favorite wall crawling target. I had to give him some credit; Spider-Man must have the patience of a saint to deal with Jameson's relentless attacks.

I arched an eyebrow at Jesse. "I wouldn't describe all codenames as cool. The Blob? Toad?" I laughed. He dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

"Ok so they're names aren't "cool," but they describe them don't they? They're simple, to the point, and memorable." His eyes lit up, not in the metaphorical sense, but actually blazed white for a brief moment. They tended to do that when he got excited or angry.

"And codenames can be _iconic_. Think about it. What New Yorker doesn't know the name Spider-man? Or Iron Man?" A damn near whimsical smile made him look like a child on Christmas morning. I sighed. The man was having delusions of grandeur.

"Let me get this straight. You want adoring fans that shout your name? What's the matter, haven't gotten enough female undergarments thrown at you in your lifetime?" He paused for a second. _Think carefully about what you say next, hothead._

"No, not nearly enough." _Ah, Jesse. You never disappoint. _The icy stare I gave him could have even made him freeze over. "I'm kidding Brooke. About the undergarments at least. Adoring fans though? I could do with that."

"How about Fireboy?" Bobby suggested, a grin playing on his lips. Jesse's face fell, a physical manifestation of his ego deflating. The name was so cringe worthy, I wanted to burst out laughing.

"I'm hardly a boy, Bobby." Bobby raised his hands in his defense.

"Sorry, let me amend it. Fireman?" Even Angel grinned at that one.

"Fireman?" He said incredulously, an edge creeping into his voice. I was starting to see why Jesse enjoyed getting a rise out of me so much. This was rich.

"I start the fires, I don't put them out." He abruptly stood and pelted a softball sized fireball at Bobby's head. Bobby reflexively shot a stream of ice that burst the ball into a cloud of sizzling steam.

"Woah there, hot stuff. Let's not take down the whole mansion. There are children here, you know." A smirk dashed across Bobby's features as he said it. Jesse rolled his eyes in an exasperated expression that I was almost certain he picked up from me.

"Well _you're _codename isn't exactly the pinnacle of creativity either, Ice—"

"Boys, boys, take it down a notch. I can hear you from all the way down the hall. Is this the kind of example you want to send to the kids?" The feminine voice with a smooth southern drawl drew their eyes to the entrance to the room where a lean woman in form fitting jeans and a black T-shirt leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She smoothed back a white lock from an otherwise auburn mane of hair.

"Awe, Rogue, you're ruining my fun. I was just getting started," Bobby complained. The thirty year old woman rolled her green, catlike eyes. They moved to rest on me.

"The boss wants to see you Brooke. Jesse too." Rogue shot Jesse a pointed look, who quit glaring at Bobby as though he could set him ablaze through sheer force of will. I removed myself from the embrace of the overly plush sofa with a bit of effort. I swear the thing would eat you alive given enough time.

"Let's go, Fireman," I teased, gripping his bare forearm as I passed him. His skin felt hot to the touch, like pavement on a summer day. Normally his skin just felt feverish, so the mild discomfort I felt with this brief contact was a testament to his annoyance. I wanted to laugh again, but I restrained myself. He had a big enough dose of his own medicine for one day. It was good for him.

He turned and followed me out the door. We ascended a wide staircase to the second floor and went down the hall. I pushed open the heavy oak double doors at the end of the hall to reveal a tastefully decorated room lined along its walls by the bookshelves filled to the brim with the favorites of the late Charles Xavier. Bright sunlight filtered in through the grand bay windows at the far end of the room. They overlooked a wide green lawn over which several mutants could be seen playing Frisbee, sunbathing, or otherwise enjoying the warm weather.

A few worn but comfortable looking dark green couches surrounded a stone fireplace toward the left side of the room. At the room's center was large, dark wood desk that had no hints of personalization: a solitary desk lamp, a pen stand, and a cordless telephone were the only objects that graced the otherwise bare, glossy wood. There, behind an engraved nameplate that read "Headmaster Ororo Munroe," sat a tall African American woman with tresses of startlingly white, glossy hair that cascaded past her chest. Storm had taken over for Professor X as headmaster of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters since Charles' death, which was shortly before I had arrived at the mansion at the age of thirteen.

She smiled, showing even white teeth that seemed all the more striking when contrasted against her dark complexion. Storm had an exotic beauty that few could rival, but I had quickly learned in my time as a member of the X-men that looks were often deceiving that Storm was no exception to that rule. She was just about a fierce as she was pretty, and anyone who made the mistake of underestimating her would sorely regret it. Jesse and I had the misfortune of drawing her ire when we tried to convince her that the Cullens, a clan of vampires whom we were sent to interrogate three years ago, did not fit the mindless parasite stereotype commonly held by the mutant community, myself included. I couldn't exactly blame her. Few people were aware that vampires even existed at the time, and it was human nature to fear the unknown. So when their increased activity brought them forcibly to our attention we had little to go on. Besides, how else would we view creatures that fed off the blood of humans? Nonetheless, we eventually proved that most vampires were not as we had been led to believe. As for the rest whose intentions were not so innocent, well let's just say most of them were reduced to little more than a pile of ash by the human atomic bomb that miraculously still stood in one piece by my side.

"Ah, Jesse and Brooke. Just the pair I wanted to see. I've got a new assignment for you."

"Perfect, it was starting to get boring around here," Jesse said, rubbing his hands together.

"Don't get too excited. You shouldn't have to fry anything if this goes the way I want it to," she said with a small laugh. Jesse's face fell.

"The NYPD has forwarded me a few incident reports. Couple of drug store robberies, a few purse snatchings. Petty crimes really, but the distribution and nature of the crimes makes them think it's the same person. And a mutant at that. So naturally they've requested that we look into it."

Jesse groaned. "You want us to bring the thief in?" Clearly Jesse was not looking forward to taking on another reach out to the delinquent mutant gig. But he had never been a confused thirteen year old girl who had just lost control of her mutant abilities and knew that her life as she knew it was over. Jesse's powers had never caused him any kind of trauma. On the off chance that this mutant was anything like me and not just some petty criminal using their mutant abilities as a get rich quick scheme, I felt duty bound to at least try to help.

"What makes them think it's a mutant? Do we have a description of the perp?" I inquired, ignoring Jesse's obvious frustration.

"There are some common elements to the incidents. All within the same ten block radius, and no one has actually witnessed the suspect in action," Storm explained. My brow furrowed.

"What kind of mutant are we dealing with here? If no one's physically seen that means what? Super speed?" I suggested.

Storm nodded. "Possibly. Maybe telekinesis. After all, no one would ever have to see them if they could use their mind to bring what they needed directly to them."

"So we have no description? How are we supposed to track down a ghost?" Jesse asked.

Ororo laced her fingers together on the expansive desk, looking slightly exasperated. "Your guess is as good as mine, but we have to show at least some attempt to look for the culprit. I'm giving you three days. Take any of the cars, but—," she shot a sharp look at Jesse, who had begun to grin like kid in a candy store, "nothing too flashy. I don't want you drawing attention to yourselves." Jesse muttered "No fun" so silently that no one without enhanced hearing would have picked it up.

Jesse raised his hand partway in the air. "Can I point out one thing?" Storm arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow.

"Yes, Jesse?" She said with the practiced patience that came from dealing with the likes of Jesse for the better part of his twenty five years.

"Seeing that it's NYC we're talking about here, why do the X-men even have to get involved? I mean, think about it." He proceeded to count off on his fingers. "The Fantastic Four, S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Dr. Strange, Spider-man, whoever's around from the Avengers…I could go on. I think NYC's pretty much covered."

The man had a point. New York City had the most disproportionate concentration of superheroes than possibly anywhere in the world. Then again, it also experienced a grossly disproportionate number of alien invasions, attempts at world takeover, and general supervillain activity that any 305 square mile area should ever have to experience. It was a wonder that anyone still freely chose to live there. Gluttons for punishment, the lot of them. Still, I could predict Storm's response, and we were going to New York to deal with this whether Jesse liked it or not.

She took a measured breath and spoke slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "Jesse, this is hardly a job for any of those groups." _Bingo_. "You know full well from growing up with your father that the Fantastic Four largely deals with intergalactic or otherwise larger threats. Same with the Avengers. S.H.I.E.L.D. has its fingers in at least a million different pies. This is likely a case involving a lone mutant, and when it comes to mutant affairs, we are the ones people go to. "

She leaned back into the leather office chair, her voice softening. "Believe it or not, Jesse, being an X-man isn't all about beating up the bad guys. Sometimes it's about reaching out to a single person and trying to steer them onto the right path. If we can make that difference in one mutant's life, we've done a great thing. If they're beyond salvage, then they will face justice for their crimes. Now go." The finality of her tone was plain enough for even Jesse to understand. Further argument would only threaten to incite the power of the storms that Ororo was so famous for.

"Well, shall we go pack up the car?" I suggested.


	4. Alleys

**Note: Any and all feedback appreciated. I think this is one of my favorite chapters that I've written, so I hope you enjoy it too!**

* * *

_You know, I used to like the summer, _I mused as looked down at the cars that busied themselves like so many ants on the congested roads below. I laid my middle two fingers down on the center of my palm, pressing the small quarter-sized release button that fired another gossamer webline. As I felt it pull taut I kicked forward, accelerating far faster than any of the unfortunate city drivers that crawled along below me.

_At least, that was before I started spending my nights Tarzan-swinging around New York City entombed in a skintight red and blue suit. _If I was smarter, I probably would have designed it differently. Maybe brazenly have my face uncovered like any sane person. Or I could just beat up the baddies in little more than torn up cargo shorts like the Incredible Hulk. If I was really smart, I'd follow in Stark's footsteps have the damn suit entirely reconstructed to have built in AC and a radio. Unfortunately, I didn't have the finances or the technical genius to accomplish that. My web shooters and spider tracers stretched my meager budget as it was. So I made do with what I could. Over the years, I'd modified the suit subtly. It's flexibility, tear and friction resistance, and—less practically—esthetic appearance had all undergone some major improvements from the earliest versions of the costume. Breathability though? I was still figuring that one out. And on these humid summer nights where the air felt thick as butter and the temperature still exceeded eighty five degrees, the feeling of being in the suit could be described as akin to drowning. A few more nights like this, and good old JJJ wouldn't need a waterspout to flush the spider out. I'd make sure to keel over right on the Bugle's doorstep, just to have the grim satisfaction of posthumously reading the headlines that came out of that. I could see it now: 'Spider-man: Death by Spandex.' Oh, the irony.

I released the webline, shooting through the air like cannonball and letting gravity take its hold on my body. The milliseconds of free fall before the next webline gained a firm purchase, where I teetered in acute danger of tumbling to a wholly unpleasant death on the unforgiving pavement below, were equal parts exhilarating and frightening. It was there, hanging suspended in air, that I was acutely aware of my own mortality. It was sobering to have these moments, so that each time I felt against all odds the reassuring snag of an impossibly thin strand, I took it as a sign that the universe wasn't quite done with me yet. Which was just as well. I wasn't done here yet. Plus, there was a certain red haired bombshell waiting for me back at home that I imagine would be fairly disappointed if a little thing like gravity was my undoing.

I banked hard, careening toward a low rooftop off the beaten path. In one fluid motion, while still fifty feet above the roof, I let the line go, somersaulted, and stuck the landing better than a champion gymnast, my knees absorbing the impact like a springboard. I vaulted over the side of the roof into a dark alley that looked like it was created for the sole purpose of providing a hangout for all sorts of unsavory types. Naturally, that made it the perfect place to stash my clothes. Even if they had the gall to wander down a dark city alleyway in the dead of night, no one would be able to reach the neatly webbed bundle halfway up the side of the building, but the moment I stopped being cautious would be the very moment someone caught me in my underwear sans mask. It would be just my luck.

I snagged the bundle on the way down, thinking absently that it was a good thing I no longer lived with Aunt May. I could still picture her face as I walked through the door on many a late night, clucking her tongue as she appraised the deep wrinkles that undoubtedly settled into my street clothes after being compressed into a tight netting of web for the past few hours. Truthfully, I now knew that it took ironing with a bit more aggression than the average person could probably muster to get them back into a presentable form, so how that little woman got them into pristine shape was a conundrum even too difficult for me to solve.

The webbing tore with minimal effort on my part; it was well on its way to dissolving. With one hand I reached and felt for the nearly imperceptible seam between my mask and the rest of the suit. I pulled on it, and the fresh air hitting the back of my exposed neck felt like heaven.

But then a sharp tingling originating from the base of my skull that crawled over my scalp and trickled down my spine had me on high alert. _Spider-sense_. The feeling of it was hard to describe; the closest thing it came to was an odd mix of a chill and an adrenaline rush. Within my first few months as Spider-man, I quickly realized that the intensity of what I called my "spider-sense" varied depending on the level of the threat. And in this case, the level was low, especially considering that a few seconds had now passed and there were no bullets making a beeline for my face.

I tentatively started to pull on the mask again, triggering another pulse. _Ah_, I thought, confirming my suspicion_._ Conveniently, spider-sense also alerted me to more mundane threats, such as the unwittingly revealing my identity to undesired observers.

"Come out come out wherever you are," I sang into the darkness. The yellow streetlight seeping into the alley glinted off something to my left. I pivoted quickly, fingers hovering above the release of my web shooter. Atop a faded blue dumpster, a run-of-the-mill brown tabby cat with dark stripes along its flanks lounged, lazily swishing its tail. It blinked at my movement and turned its head; the streetlight reflecting white off the backs of its gooseberry green eyes. I let my hand fall to my side and rubbed my head. _It's been a long night_, I thought. It wouldn't be the first time fatigue made my spider-sense particularly hypersensitive.

I waved the backs of my hands toward it, as if shooing it. "Move along, Fluffy. No handouts here." I mimed turning my nonexistent pockets inside out. "However, if you're looking for some good eats, I'd try the Chinese place about two blocks north of here. They toss out food like it's their job."

The cat swiveled its ears toward him with interest, then stood and soundlessly dropped to the ground and slinked off into the shadows, as if deciding checking out said Chinese place might actually not be a bad idea. _Your friendly neighborhood Spider-man, and cat whisperer._

* * *

**Brooke**

"There are far too many people here. No wonder no one drives," Jesse grumbled, laying on the horn of the silver Hyundai Elantra as yet a another taxi cut him off. Jesse was normally in an insufferably good mood. But let's face it, NYC traffic was enough to drive anyone into a rage. "I mean it's 11pm, for Christ's sake. Why the hell is there traffic at 11pm?"

"Do we need to do some meditative breathing? Relax, your hands are starting to steam." He glanced down at his hands, and with some effort the wispy steam ceased issuing from his pores. He didn't let up on his white-knuckled death grip on the steering wheel though. "Here is good. Drop me off," I announced.

We were roughly in the center of area where the robberies had occurred, and since most of the crimes occurred between the hours of 9pm and 2am, we were probably out here at prime time. Not that we thought there would be an incident tonight, but we didn't really have much to go on. I figured that if I could poke around some of the crime scenes, there'd be a chance, albeit a small one, that I could catch some kind of a scent.

"I'll catch up with you. Give me three hours," I informed him as I stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Jesse placed his forehead against the steering wheel. "Ughhhh," he moaned. "What do you expect me to with all that time?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. Entertain yourself. Go cruising." Normally, I'd think twice before giving Jesse free reign to go entertain himself. He'd get himself into trouble faster than I could change shape. But he was in such a sour mood that I thought I'd risk it.

"Yes. Cruising. At five miles per hour. In a Hyundai." Needless to say, Jesse was not happy about the choice of car when there had been a cherry red Ferrari parked next to it back at the mansion. I ignored the quip.

"Catch ya later, babe," I said, doing my best impersonation of his usual demeanor. I even finished it with an outlandish wink. I was so spot on that the corners of his mouth lifted in spite of himself. I shut the door and the Jesse reluctantly pulled back into traffic.

One hour later, I thought I might be onto something. Checking out the most recent two sites, I found a matching scent trail, which would have been all but lost amongst the smell of gasoline, street food, pigeons, and the general seething mass of humanity had it not wandered into lesser trafficked areas. It weaved from streets to alleyways in a circuitous pattern. Just when I thought I'd lost track of it, I picked it up again as it turned into a side alley where there were far fewer scents to confuse it with. If this was our guy—my nose told me it was a male scent—then he definitely wasn't fond of being out in the crowds for too long.

I turned down yet another shadowy alley on silent paws as the scent predictably veered off. I chose a cat morph in an attempt to be as inconspicuous as possible. A dog may have been able to track the scent with a bit more efficiency, but I knew that my dog form was a labrador. A large, unleashed dog without any identification to speak of drew far too much attention for my liking. It was just another strange quirk of my shapeshifting abilities. Though I could control the degree of my change (half form vs. full animal), and even combine elements of multiple species with a surprising degree of accuracy, I seemingly had no say in the physical appearance of a particular form. My wolf was black with a white tipped tail, my lion form was always male, and my dog form just happened to be a chocolate lab. Try as I may, my body wouldn't cooperate if I tried to mess with whatever presets my genes had in store for me. Believe me, I'd tried.

So I'd settled on cat. No one looked twice at a stray tabby. Despite the limited light that filtered into the alley, the dimness presented little trouble to my well adapted eyes. _Ah, now we're getting somewhere. _The scent was stronger here, fresher. My head turned involuntarily as a particularly plump black rat scurried by. My claws flexed from their sheaths in anticipation as the cat's instincts were brought to the fore. _Oh, hell no. _I told the cat that coinhabited my mind as I reasserted control. I could practically see her yowling at me in my mind's eye as she backed down. I'd hunted down deer and other wild game in animal forms. But the thought of a city rat sitting in an all too human stomach later on was a bit too revolting for me to consider.

Bunching my haunches, I leapt to the top of dumpster to get a bit of higher vantage point, searching for any evidence that there had been recent human activity here. I'd been expecting to possibly find discarded food wrappers, maybe a personal belonging if I got really lucky. What I hadn't been expecting was the lithe red and blue clad figure that dropped out of the sky, landing impossibly light on his feet. My cat was about a hair away from having a stroke. Nothing that big was ever supposed to drop out of the air. I agreed with her sentiments.

Recollecting my senses, I identified the figure. _Spider-man, _I thought, briefly awestruck. And then I understood what Jesse was getting at with code names. I didn't know Spider-man's real name. No one did, as far as I knew. But his code name defined him. All his feats, all the incredible stories of things he could do and had done, they were all brought to the forefront of my mind at the utterance of that simple name. It was, what was the word Jesse had used? Ah, yes, _iconic_. And here he was, in the flesh, against all odds. I was in the presence of one the greatest heroes of our time. I knew well that the mutants I fought alongside with, like Ice Man, Storm, and of course my own father, Wolverine, were among those great heroes as well. But I had grown up around them. I knew them first and foremost as comrades and family, so the fact that they doubled as well known heroes often slipped my mind. I now knew what it was like for a third party observer to come face to face with those heroes that were the stuff of legends.

Spider-man tore open a webbed bundle that he held in his hands. He touched the back of his neck and began to pull off his mask. Then he stiffened from head to toe, as if hit by a live wire. I tensed, wondering if he had seen something that I hadn't. I gave the alley a quick once over. Nothing out of the ordinary, not that I could see anyway. He looked around warily, reached for his mask again, and again the same rigidity overcame him. He looked about ready to bolt. I didn't need to see him in action to know that he was a bundle of energy. It was in the way he stood, light on his feet, unable to be entirely still. I knew I wouldn't want to fight him. A large man he was not, but that lean frame was nothing but muscle like steel whipcord. And he would be fast. Very fast. In a fight, I knew from experience that avoiding damage was more important than brute force. From what I knew of him, avoiding damage was Spider-man's forte.

He cupped his hands over the part of his mask where his mouth was. "Come out, come out wherever you are," he sang, as if playing a game of hide and seek. Now I was on edge. What was he seeing that I wasn't? And then it dawned on me. Logan had told me once that Spider-man had a sixth sense, one that warned him of danger. And sitting crouched on top of a dumpster, watching him remove his mask, made _me _the danger. He had almost revealed his identity, and this mystical sense of his had alerted him to my presence. Just as I processed this, Spider-man whirled to face me, his hand raised. I froze momentarily, then decidedly looked away as if uninterested. _You're just a stray cat. Act like one. _But with a web shooter pointed in my face, acting natural wasn't so easy. After a few tense seconds, Spider-man dropped his hand, to my great relief.

"Move along, Fluffy. No handouts here," he said, shooing me with his gloved hands. "However, if you're looking for some good eats, I'd try the Chinese place about two blocks north of here. They toss out food like it's their job." I laughed inwardly at his attempt to communicate with a cat whom he had no reason to suspect was anything more. Nonetheless, I took this as my cue to give him the privacy he needed to change. As someone who tried their hardest to retain some degree of anonymity, I respected his desire to protect his identity.

I jumped to the ground, moving deeper into the alley, when the unmistakable scent of my target wafted to my nostrils. It was so strong, he could have been standing right next me. The scuffing sound of a shoe grinding against bits of gravel and dirt made me turn on my heel. _Here. _He was here. _My senses can't be lying to me. _

I turned just in time to see Spider-man bend over backwards as if dodging an assailant, so fast it was a blur. He leaped what must have been ten feet straight into the air, flipped forward, and landed in a crouch, releasing a stream of webbing from both hands. Instead of propelling forward into empty hair, the strands wrapped themselves seemingly around a column of air. A quick yank of his right hand, and there was an audible thud, a cry of "Oof!," and a clatter of metal as a crowbar materialized out of thin air, hit the pavement and slid to a stop at my feet. _Holy shit. What just happened? _


	5. Attention

**Brooke**

"Come on now, did you really think you could sneak up on a guy with spider-sense?" Spider-man chastised with a shake of disapproving finger. I slunk into the shadows to observe as I gathered my senses.

The air within the seemingly hollow column of webbing blurred as it would over a highway in midsummer, and in its place a scruffy, dirty faced youth materialized. His ash blonde hair lay in tangled strands about his face and was long overdue for a good cut. _And wash, _I couldn't help but think. Even with the stubble and grime obscuring his face, he looked no older than eighteen. I sampled the air to be sure this was our perp. The scent matched.

Spider-man lifted his all but helpless quarry with no apparent strain and unceremoniously stuck him upright against the brick wall with quick spray of webbing. He cupped his hand under his chin, as if in deep thought, and scrutinized the boy, who seemed to squirm under the expressionless stare of the large white eye pieces. Spider-man snapped his fingers, and the kid visibly flinched.

"Aha! So _you're _the elusive hooligan running around ripping off old ladies and drug store cashiers, aren't ya?" The boy said nothing to the contrary.

He scooped up the discarded crowbar and brandished it in front of his face. "A crowbar? Really? You don't watch much tv, do you?" Spider-man twisted the crowbar into a pretzel with disturbingly little effort just to demonstrate his point. The boy's eyes widened in horror. I didn't blame him.

"Alright, kid, tell you what. We'll chalk this little escapade up as a brief lapse in good sense, and I'm gonna let the good ol' boys in blue take care of you."

The teen finally found his voice. "P-please, I don't want to go to jail!" His voice was high with fear.

Spidey gave him a casual shrug. "Sorry, kid." He sounded almost regretful. "Should of thought of that before going off on your delinquent escapades." He shook his head. "But I mean really…if you were trying to avoid jail, the last thing you'd want to do is seek out the only crime fighter with superhuman strength in the vicinity and try to assault him with the equivalent of a toothpick. I don't really get what you were going for here."

This was probably my cue. I called upon the change and my body contorted, making all manners of unpleasant crunching, crackling, and popping sounds. There was no way to be subtle about it, and though I regretted subjecting anyone to seeing me change, there was no time for false modesty. The boy's eyes bulged as Spidey whirled to get an eyeful of what I was sure was a fairly grotesque cat-human hybrid. In less than thirty seconds I had regained human form, and I issued silent praises to whatever miracle worker had designed my X-suit. It changed form along with my body, saving me the inconvenience of having to run around butt naked every time I needed to shapeshift. I stood up from my crouched position, brushing my long hair from my face.

Spider-man let out an exaggerated groan. "As if I wasn't paranoid enough, now I have to start being suspicious of the wildlife." I raised my hands innocently and made no move toward him.

"I'm not here to—"

"Hurt me?" Spider-man interjected. He pointed to his head "I know. I've got a knack for picking that out, my feline friend. But I don't need spider-sense to know you're part of the X-men." He indicated the raised silver X insignia embroidered into the center of my chest. He paused, scrutinizing me with his head slightly cocked to one side. I could see why the kid felt so unnerved. I was good at reading people; my enhanced senses allowed me to pick up on subtle body language and changes in scent. But there was a lot to be gained from analyzing someone's face, and I only had those ever staring, almost luminescent insect eyes to work with. That, in combination with his intentional and excessively exaggerated body language, made Spider-man especially hard to read. I supposed that was his intention. Hide your face, be conscious of your movements, and his enemies would be hard pressed to determine if he was afraid, uncertain, or in pain. Guarding that information could mean the difference between life and death in certain situations. My respect for him deepened. The spider was clever, that much was apparent.

"Come to think of it, I've seen you. On the tv during the treaty signing. As I remember, you also graced the front page of the Bugle for a day or two. Being in the public eye is a treat, isn't it?"

"A joy," I agreed, moving forward. "It's Br—" I started to say, but then then became acutely aware of the kid feebly struggling against his sticky restraints, watching me in earnest. "Shifter." The name slid off my tongue without much thought.

"Shifter, huh?" Coming out of someone else's mouth, the name actually sounded ok. "Your friendly neighborhood Spider-man, at your service." He bowed curtly at the waist, and I shook his gloved hand. His grip was very firm. He jerked his thumb at the scruffy teenager, who again looked visibly uncomfortable at being the center of attention once more. "Assuming you're here about the kid, right?"

I nodded. "The local crimes in this area were suspected to be mutant in origin, so they sent us. Looks like the suspicions were correct." I looked at the boy directly for the first time.

"What's your name?" I asked him. He looked away, and I could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he conjured up a false name. As he started to stammer, Spider-man interjected.

"Real name, kid. Or would you rather us just call you the Invisible Woman?"

"Don't lie to me. Trust me, I'll know," I added.

"Scott," he blurted out. "Scott Nader." The words rang true. Now we were getting somewhere.

"Age?" I inquired.

"Seventeen," he answered without hesitation. I was right, he was young. "Look, I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"You've been on a localized crime spree for the past few weeks, and you tried to assault me with a crowbar, but you never meant to hurt anyone? " Spider-man waved the now twisted crowbar. The teen's eyes were downcast. "Cut the crap."

"I needed the money, ok?" he said, as if that absolved him of all guilt. My brow furrowed. Something wasn't making sense.

"Let's pretend for a moment that you're not as dumb as your making yourself out to be," I said. "You needed money, so you stole. That's clear enough. But before I interrupted, Spider-man here made a good point. Why would you blatantly seek him out? The guy has superhuman strength, agility and reflexes, and puts guys like you away for a living. Unless you have some other mutant power up your sleeve, I'm not convinced that you thought you could overpower him. Did you honestly expect not to get caught?"

The boy's cheeks flushed, but whether in shame or anger I couldn't quite tell. "I _never _get caught," Scott said defiantly.

"I think our definitions of caught are pretty different, buddy. He looks pretty caught to me. Wouldn't you agree?" he asked me. Spider-man stood straighter, crossing his arms over his chest so that his biceps bulged. Scott eyed him warily. As I suspected, he was no fool. The fear he had of Spider-man was clear as day. He knew damn well he never had a chance in hell against the superhero. However, he was not lying when he said he never gets caught. Which left one possibility.

"Scott, why did you want to be caught by Spider-man?" I knew then that I'd asked the right question. Sweat broke out along his forehead, and he visibly paled. "And don't play games with me."

"I was trying to get his attention," Scott said quickly. The sweat was now carving clear trails down his dirty face.

"I think fan mail would have been the better way to go about that," Spider-man joked. I ignored his humor and continued to pry.

"For what?" I insisted.

"Please, just don't put me in jail. I'll stop—"

"Scott, for God's sake, we're not going to throw you in jail."

"We're not?" Spider-man asked innocently. I shot him a look as the boy turned a few shades whiter. Spider-man only laughed. "Fine, fine. We're not gonna put you in jail. The Raft, however—"

"Spider-man!"

"Sorry, sometimes I just can't help myself." Beneath his mask, I knew he was smiling.

I turned my attention back to Scott. "For what?" I repeated, gentler this time.

"I-I don't know. Really!" he added when I arched an eyebrow at him. "They didn't tell me. I just took the money, no questions asked."

"Didn't your parents ever teach you not to talk to strangers, kid?" Spider-man, of course.

"Who's 'they'? What money?" I continued doggedly.

"I don't know. They wore deep hoods, so I never saw their faces. They cornered me one night, told me to draw attention to myself. Specifically to get _your _attention." He indicated Spider-man with his chin. "I've been stealing for over two years now, and no one ever put the pieces together. I'm good at it." He shot an anxious glance at us, no doubt wondering if we were rethinking our tenuous promise not to turn him over to the authorities. Thankfully, the webhead remained silent. "So I don't know how they knew about what I could do. I was scared, more than I've ever been in my life. I tried to say no, but then they gave me the money." He smiled sheepishly. "It was a lot of money."

"So I agreed. Then they knocked me out. By the time I came around, I was alone in an alley and they were nowhere to be found. I thought it was a bad dream, but I still had the bag of money. $500,000. Cash."

"Why didn't you just run off with it?" I asked.

"Believe me, I tried. Before I could even get a cab they found me again. Told me to hold up my end of the bargain, and gave me until the end of the month. You can fill in the rest."

It was July 29th. The kid was flirting with his deadline, so he got desperate and decided to go for Spidey directly.

"Did they say what to do after you got his attention? And do they know where you are now?"

"No. They just told me to get his attention. And as for them knowing where I am. I don't know…I don't know how they found me in the first place, so maybe?" Scott seemed to search the dark alleyway for his mysterious pursuers. His eyes were wide with fear. He swallowed forcefully. "What if they come back for me? For talking?"

"Don't worry kid. If someone was watching us, I'd know," Spider-man reassured him.

"Scott, have you heard of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, up in Westchester? I think it would be best if I took you there, at least until we figure out who put you up to this. We could keep you safe there."

He nodded numbly. "The mutant school. Yeah."

"And your parents? Family? Where are they?"

He shook his head. "I've been on my own since I was fifteen. They don't know where I am, I don't know where they are. Probably better that way." I didn't press the issue further. Why the kid was on the streets could be addressed at another time. In the mean time, I had to get him back to the mansion. Ororo needed to know that there was something much more complicated at work here than a young mutant making some bad decisions.

I looked over at the spandex clad figure to my right. He seemed to be lost in thought. "Hey, mind getting him out of there? I can take him from here." Spider-man seemed to snap back to life.

"No problem, kitty cat." He approached Scott, and reached for the webbing cocoon, tearing it like tissue paper. The inner layer had already begun to dissolve and gave way, spilling Scott onto the concrete. Spider-man backed away from the kid a little too quickly, rubbing the back of his head. Scott rose to his feet, wobbling slightly as he grew accustomed to having control of his own legs again.

It was time to go find Jesse. I gave Spider-man a searching glance as he eyed Scott, again seeming to be thinking hard about something. "Thank-you, Spider-man. Look out for yourself, ok?"

He shrugged. "It's not the first time someone's had it out for me. And if my luck is any indication, it definitely won't be the last. Comes with the territory." He scooped up his discarded clothing, leapt straight into the air and fired a webline. In a flash, he was gone.

* * *

**Spider-man**

As I put distance between myself and that alley, the pounding in my head subsided. This night had dragged on way too long for my liking. I shot another webline, swinging in a wide arc toward home. Mary Jane would be wondering what kept me.

As sweet as my bed sounded though, my thoughts kept drifting back to the kid. He was sent to get my attention. Well, he certainly had it, and in a big way. _Maybe I should have said something to Shifter…_

Funny thing was, when the kid got near me swinging that crowbar around like an amateur, and each and every time I got within two feet of him, my spider-sense wasn't just shouting.

It was screaming.


End file.
